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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24554695">A Tale Uncovered (by Louise Pontmercy)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/voidify/pseuds/voidify'>voidify</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Les Misérables - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>BEAR WITH ME re those last 2 tags and the valvert one, Canon-typical PTSD, Epistolary, F/M, Framing Device, Gen, Javert Lives, M/M, More or less brick based but probably has some inaccuracies, POV Outsider, Post-Seine, descendant fic, egregious use of exclamation marks by Marius in his diary, generally humorous tone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:54:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,091</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24554695</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/voidify/pseuds/voidify</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>While cleaning out the attic of her great-grandfather’s house, Louise Pontmercy happens upon a box of 19th-century documents: letters, daguerreotypes, and several volumes of her great-great-great-great-great-grandfather’s diary. This is the story she found.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy, Javert/Jean Valjean</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Tale Uncovered (by Louise Pontmercy)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>It’s barricade day! I’ve been tinkering with this WIP for ages, so I figured I might as well post chapter 1 for barricade day. Hopefully I’ll update this on a vaguely regular basis; uni and executive dysfunction have been kicking my butt so I can’t promise anything with any certainty, but I’m free of classes for the next month and diary!Marius is such a fun character voice that I think I’ll have sufficient motivation to not abandon this fic</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>One of my most vivid childhood memories is the family tree assignment they gave us back in maternelle. Most of the other kids’ answers fit neatly into the template: a mother and father, four grandparents, perhaps siblings, the occasional aunt or uncle or cousin in the answers of those who were particularly thorough… and then there was mine. If the other kids’ trees were pictured in July, mine was from November. The side that was supposed to contain a father and his relatives was populated entirely by question marks, and the other side wasn’t much better off— above my mother, her parents both had little crosses next to their names. There were no spaces allocated for great-grandparents on the template, but I couldn’t leave out great-grandpa Marcel, so I squeezed him in at the top. </p><p>Marcel’s house had been in the family for centuries, and he never let anyone forget it. It always felt kind of abstract to me, though. When your three-year-old self has treated a wall as a canvas, it’s difficult to really feel a sense of wonder about how the bricks of that wall were laid before the storming of the Bastille. </p><p>I regret not asking him more questions about the history of our family. Maybe if I had, I wouldn’t have to wonder now whether he knew about the box of miraculously preserved 19th-century documents in his attic. But I guess there’s no changing the past— only documenting it. Full credit to my girlfriend Emilie and her connections at the library for making sure all the letters and diaries and photos in the box were digitised and stored safely so that they wouldn’t get a chance to crumble to dust. </p><p>The artifact dated earlier than any of the others was a leather-bound diary with “PERSONAL JOURNAL of BARON MARIUS PONTMERCY — VOLUME the FIRST — NOVEMBER 1832 to APRIL 1833” etched on the cover. These selected entries have been transcribed as faithfully as possible.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <span class="u">28 November, 1832</span>
  </p>
  <p>It has been suggested to me that I keep a journal. Perhaps there is substance to such a notion. Well, there is no better way to determine this than to make an attempt. It will certainly occupy me as I continue my recovery. </p>
  <p>I suppose, first, I should recount the news of earlier this month— and O, the most joyous news it is!!!! I am to be allowed to marry my dear Cosette!!!!— my grandfather has at last come around on the matter!!!!!!! Cosette, as you would not yet know, dear journal, is but the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes upon!— the flower of Paris!!— radiant as the moon herself!!!— </p>
  <p>Ah, but I shouldn’t wear out my words on the matter. I shall return another day!!!</p>
  <p>Your humble servant,</p>
  <p>Baron Marius Pontmercy</p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <a id="return1" name="return1"></a>
    <span class="u">4 December, 1832</span>
    <sup>[<a href="#note1">1</a>]</sup>
  </p>
  <p>Cosette visited today!!!!!!!!! Ah, how I cannot wait for us to be one, to be her husband and have her as my wife!— how I adore her!!!!—</p>
  <p>By the by; I recently learned that Nicolette had begun to tire of hearing about this from me!! I truly would not have thought it from her reactions at the time— she has always been so polite in her listening???— but today, I overheard her gossiping with another of the servants about my “Obnoxious Ramblings”!?!!! So you are now my only refuge for my words of love, dear journal!!!!!!</p>
  <p>Ah, to what may I possibly compare my dear Cosette? Perhaps a flower made of diamonds, fixed to the head of a graceful swan, sailing majestically along the Seine, the diamonds glittering from the combined light of the full moon and the gas-lights of the city...</p>
  <p>I have lost track of the analogy. </p>
  <p>Your humble servant,</p>
  <p>Baron Marius Pontmercy</p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><span class="u">19 December, 1832</span> </p>
  <p><a id="return2" name="return2"></a>I could not sleep last night. This has, in fact, been true for several nights in the last few weeks. I was not sure I could confide this in thee, journal, but I suppose this is a silly thought— thou art my journal! of course I can confide in thee anything!— <sup>[<a href="#note2">2</a>]</sup></p>
  <p>Well, as I was saying, thoughts of the barricade have kept me awake. The barricade… my friends…<em> [A few sentences were written here, but seem to have been thoroughly scratched out afterwards]</em></p>
  <p>Ah, on reflection, never mind all that!!— there is no cause to dwell on such things!— I must not reopen the wounds of my mind while those of my body are still healing!— I should, rather than waxing melancholy of the past, keep my eye to the future!!— and O, what a bright future it is, too!!!</p>
  <p>Sincerely,</p>
  <p>Baron Marius Pontmercy</p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <span class="u">2 January, 1833</span>
  </p>
  <p>Allow me to preface this with a justification— indeed, it is true that I vowed not to write of the barricades, lest I delay my recovery— but I believe I have healed well enough, as I am now taking regular walks with the cane, even outdoors! And besides, this is not about the worst of it— no, the chaotic memories of blood and failure can be postponed— this is about a tangentially relevant but perpetually baffling question: what occurred afterwards?!?!</p>
  <p>I cannot, however hard I try, prevent myself from wondering who it was that saved me that night. My grandfather said that a strange man brought me to the doorstep in the dead of night, assisted by a policeman— but he knew nothing more. According to those I’ve asked, the streets were closed that night, too— this mysterious man must have carried me through some secret route!</p>
  <p>I asked Monsieur Fauchelevent if he knew anything of the rue de la Chanvrerie— I thought I remembered seeing him that night, and if he was there, perhaps that man may have been him?— but he replied that he knew nothing of the street. And this was despite the esteem I would hold him in if he claimed the title of my saviour!!— his honourable refusal to impersonate that mysterious saint is truly commendable!!!— I could not ask for a better father-in-law!!</p>
  <p>Perhaps the man I seek has died in the ensuing months. That may be the most reasonable assumption, if a saddening one. </p>
  <p>Sincerely,</p>
  <p>Baron Marius Pontmercy</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>***FOOTNOTES***</p><p><a id="note1" name="note1"></a><sup>1</sup>Entries were more or less daily at this point, but this one is a representative sample of the first three weeks, and most of the other entries I’ve omitted— trust me, once you’ve read it, you’ve read them all.<sup>[<a href="#return1">return to text</a>]</sup></p><p><a id="note2" name="note2"></a><sup>2</sup>Yes, this was the first time he referred to his diary in the informal.<sup>[<a href="#return2">return to text</a>]</sup></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Kudos are great, comments are even better!!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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